]]>What are you listening to this week? Many runners find themselves fighting off the boredom by keeping a mean playlist nearby. These are my “jams of the week” that keep me feeling peppy on the treadmill. You can find a little bit of everything here and there are no bpm rules of thumb. Anything goes!

Jam #1: Red Sex – Vessel

I stumbled across this song while I was watching the trailer for Park Chan-Wook’s The Handmaiden. I was really soldon this song three hours later after I finished watching the film. Recommended order of affairs? Listen to this song, watch the trailer, watch the film, go for a run.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2018/02/03/jam-of-the-week/feed/01596NYRR Midnight Run into 2018!http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2018/01/04/nyrr-midnight-run-into-2018/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2018/01/04/nyrr-midnight-run-into-2018/#respondThu, 04 Jan 2018 22:07:25 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=1653Happy New Year! If you are in the US right now, odds are pretty good you are very, very cold at the moment. And if you were in Central Park…

]]>Happy New Year! If you are in the US right now, odds are pretty good you are very, very cold at the moment. And if you were in Central Park last night, you were definitely cold. It was the coldest NYC new year’s eve in 100 years, and the 2nd coldest on record. Lucky for me and my mister, we had one more race–the Midnight Run– in the New York Road Runners 9+1 program to complete in order to qualify for the 2018 New York City Marathon to keep us warm.

I always wanted to do this race, but I never indulged in because of the steep $50 price tag. In fact, we were originally supposed to run the Ted Corbitt 15k earlier in December, but a last minute emergency prevented us from being there. So out of necessity, we signed up.

Where Did My $50 Go?

I picked up our Bibs, shoe blinker lights, and shirts a couple days before. I was surprised to find custom shirt imprinting available for the back of people’s midnight run race shirts! This involved a lot of iron on letters and a man announcing that the line wait was 45 minutes and they were “all out of E’s”, but I was still impressed. A for Effort. Also, anything that helps explain the $50 price tag!

Little did I know, this race WAS actually a New Year’s party. At 11 pm, race night, we pulled on the final layers to our ensembles (10 degrees F, wind chill feel at -4), made our way to 72nd street, and through the various security barricades. Up near the band-shell, was a stage an a huge crowd of runners dancing stiffly albeit enthusiastically. There were lots of great running getups- colorful holiday costumes, animal shaped pajamas, and all the traditional New Years head gear.

Running a little behind, by the time we reach the start, it was at least 11:45 and the corrals were PACKED. We managed to squeeze in and before we knew it, 2018 was here. And then the fireworks came.

Blast Off for the Midnight Run

I knew there would be fireworks, I just did not know when they would be exactly, and where. The answers were: right now at 12 and right next to you. Like right next to all of us. I have never been so close to fireworks in my life and it actually freaked me out a little bit how close we were. The fireworks were actually an extraordinary show too and went on for at least 10 minutes. My only complaint, was that since we all had to run away from the fireworks as the race was starting at the same time people were tripping into each other quiet a bit, trying to run and look at the show behind them. It might have been nice at if they started closer to 12:30, so the majority of runners would be running towards them and get to see more of them.

But, I digress- I still loved it. Then, just about halfway through, we turned onto the normally subdued 102 transverse, only this time it included:

a water station

a dj- complete with impromptu runner dance party

sparkling apple cider, frozen into a frothy slushy

Pretty cool!

As we were finishing, a man picked up the female runner next to him, who was wearing a white tutu, and carried her across the finish. My mister and I finished this race, arms linked, and I felt very lucky to have such an incredible man by my side not only for that moment, but for all of the races before it, and for all the days ahead.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2018/01/04/nyrr-midnight-run-into-2018/feed/01653Staten Island Half Marathon- The “Short” Wayhttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/10/14/staten-island-half-marathon-short-way/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/10/14/staten-island-half-marathon-short-way/#respondSat, 14 Oct 2017 14:53:13 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=1568A week ago, my mister and I toed the line of the 2017 NYRR Staten Island Half Marathon. It was his second and my third- and my first with no…

The Two Ways to Run the Staten Island Half

In my opinion– and I think many veteran NYC Marathoners may agree with me– there are two ways to approach this race:

The Regular Way- which means you add about 5 or 6 miles in about an hour before the Half start (to tick off another long training run just in time for the NYC Marathon)

The “Short” Way-the regular Staten Island Half Marathon.

The Race:

It began raining almost immediately, but since it felt about 30 degree warmer, it never came to resemble the hellscape of last year.

We were in a corral with the 9:30 pacer, which was contrary to our plan to do the first half at 10:00 m/p, but I was optimistic. I was (is) also convinced that the mister is in better shape than me, so if I felt fine then he definitely felt fine.

By the second half of the race, he was ready to NOT be going 9:30 and I was ready to find some bathrooms. I was very, very happy that he waited for me this year since I was running for my life last year to catch up with him after we parted due to a bathroom line.

A couple of weeks ago, I lost my Favorite Running Hat Ever- the free NYRR volunteer hat that I got for free last year. So when we saw one in the middle of the road, around mile 10, and the mister said, “There you go, get that one,” I actually turned around. Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea and beat me to it!

That was a great hat! (Note to the Universe: send that hat back to me!)

The rest of the Staten Island Half flew by, especially since I always feel more warmed after more than an hour of running and the miles slip by a little quicker. It is tough though, as anyone familiar with the course in recent years knows that it takes a turn into warehouse land limbo for a little bit at the end!

Takeaways:

All in all, a good race. The Mister PR’d by about 10 minutes! I missed the extra miles before the Half actually started and hope I can convince my Mister to resume the tradition with me next year, since we both will be prepping for the NYC Marathon that fall.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/10/14/staten-island-half-marathon-short-way/feed/01568The Not So Mysterious (not so Wooy) S. J. Woolfhttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/10/10/woolf-in-wooy-handwriting/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/10/10/woolf-in-wooy-handwriting/#respondTue, 10 Oct 2017 22:59:49 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=1429The Mysterious S. J. Wooy A couple years ago, we casually inherited a striking picture of Theodore Roosevelt which we thought was created by an “S. J. Wooy.” As the…

A couple years ago, we casually inherited a striking picture of Theodore Roosevelt which we thought was created by an “S. J. Wooy.” As the product of an Antiques Roadshow household, I googled to see if I could find any details about the picture or any stories about the artist.

I could not.

But I wrote about him anyway and I learned from some curious readers- that I was not the only one who had turned up nothing but a dead end. Then, one recent comment sent us off on one last search, just for the heck of it.

And there he was. Only he wasn’t a Wooy at all. He was a Woolf. A Woolf in Wooy’s handwritting, you could say

Samuel Johnson Woolf

Most well known for portraits of popular celebrities and politicians of his time, which were frequently featured in The New York Times, arguably his most moving work was produced long before that.

Woolf served as a corespondent during WWI where he produced numerous pieces depicting the day to day scenes from life during the war, creating images that present the shocking as almost mundane.

But one day, the war ended. And Samuel Woolf found himself back in New York making a career as not only an artist, but a journalist, you could say. He frequently casually interviewed his subjects as he sketched them and the scope of his work quickly grew to encompass politicians, celebrities, authors, and more.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/10/10/woolf-in-wooy-handwriting/feed/01429The Things That Came Backhttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/08/12/the-things-that-came-back/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/08/12/the-things-that-came-back/#respondSat, 12 Aug 2017 23:12:44 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=1323I will never forget, the look in my best friends’ eyes, when they were thinking back to their experience aboard that boat and even though they appeared as if they…

the look in my best friends’ eyes, when they were thinking back to their experience aboard that boat and even though they appeared as if they were next to me, I knew they were lost back in the endless expanse of sea or smelling the spices of the last country or the country before it.

I tried to chase the traces of the memories, but they had evaporated around me and we never have shared memories of class before ports or dishes of food you just had to be there to even know existed.

And I wondered how such an exhilarating adventure had left them haunted.

Then I found my own adventure. And fear and anxiety and expectation was replaced by joy and adrenaline and certainty and peace. Pain and pleasure pulled me from sleep and sleep called me back just as frustration began to poke at the scale and tamper with the order of things- all things.

All things had order, the hour of sunset and the misty consistency of dawn, the chill that set in at the heart of each evening that deepened into tangible dew until it thickened the humidity percolating in the air and announced day was upon us (in case we had missed the sun itself).

Who could miss the sun? It governed us sternly, sent us scattering like animals more aware of their own instincts than ourselves. But even sometimes, we braved her still -the way a man pets a tiger or slices a pufferfish- carefully.

Sometimes your body is not your own; this was not one of those times.

I could not tell you whether we walked through our own dreams or swam through the air, so thick with humidity we wondered if it could suffocate; somehow it was the same thing.

I thought I would learn one type of lesson; instead I learned others- more dire and pertinent than could have ever been dreamed up by my own ego.

I can’t bring my whole mind back… it aches and pulls to retrace the steps along that white line. Maybe, somehow, a part of me haunts it too.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/08/12/the-things-that-came-back/feed/01323A Confession…http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/08/04/a-confession/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/08/04/a-confession/#respondFri, 04 Aug 2017 04:02:50 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=1269Halfway around my first baseline loop- of anything- in a long time, I had a realization. And it makes me feel very guilty as not only a New York City…

]]>Halfway around my first baseline loop- of anything- in a long time, I had a realization. And it makes me feel very guilty as not only a New York City runner, but even more so as a New York City runner whose primary running grounds for the past three years are Central Park.

So here it is: I realized I never had run a Central Park Reservoir Loop before. Ever. I still don’t even know how far it is off of the top of my head (which, again, is absurd, and I am going to google it right now. 1.58. Who knew? Oh wait, probably everyone…)

So why today? Why now?

I’ve just finished one major adventure (race report in the works) and for me, right now, it was the ultra of all ultras. 314 miles has left me mighty satisfied on the distance front. I’d train for and run ultras none stop for the rest of my life if I could, but I’d like to tip the running/life balance scales back to some areas I neglected in the lead up to the Big Run.

With that in mind, I thought it might be a good time to get some of my speed back and work my way back towards a sub 1:45 half which I know is completely do-able. I hate speedwork. I love long runs. But I really am looking forward to not having to commit 2 1/2 hours to every run for the time being.

I won’t have the benefit of a Garmin for the time being, but I think I can manage.

And that will mostly entail timing myself on fixed distances. And then running until I get faster.

Hello, Central Park Reservoir. I think this is the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship. Or at least a short and fruitful relationship until I resume my favorite routine- the long run and only the long run.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2017/08/04/a-confession/feed/01269Scenic Run Problemshttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/09/25/marathon-love-fall/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/09/25/marathon-love-fall/#respondSun, 25 Sep 2016 21:41:54 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=1125Kind hard to get your long run in when you have to look at views like this: I snapped this picture one evening last week on my run. I head…

]]>Kind hard to get your long run in when you have to look at views like this:

I snapped this picture one evening last week on my run. I head headed down the east side, from midtown, along the water and had just turned onto the west side, near Battery Park City.

My west sided runs have been brutally beautiful though, and I snapped these three pictures within 15 minutes one of the nights the Tropical Storm was blowing out to sea earlier this month.

Imagine my surprise when I saw my favorite marathon had shared my picture across their instagram, twitter, and facebook. It was pretty cool to share my view of the city with so many people! The city never looks as beautiful to me as it does when I am out for a run.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/09/25/marathon-love-fall/feed/01125The Finger Lakes 50s: Tales from the Tail Trailhttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/07/30/finger-lakes-50s-ultra-race-recap/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/07/30/finger-lakes-50s-ultra-race-recap/#respondSat, 30 Jul 2016 21:35:28 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=901Finger Lakes 50s It had arrived. The eve of the much anticipated Finger Lakes 50s Trail run which would be my first 50 Mile race. The Mister and I had…

It had arrived. The eve of the much anticipated Finger Lakes 50s Trail run which would be my first 50 Mile race. The Mister and I had spent the day driving towards Ithaca from New York City and debating, with varying degrees of intensity, exactly how dark it would be when we finally set up our tent in the Finger Lakes National Forest.

Traditional Race-Chocolate-Chip-Pancakes I ate Thursday in case I couldn’t any while we were on the road Friday- wise move!

I tend to be a little higher strung than my mister and combined with with a healthy dose of pre-race anxiety I was ready to be stretched out inside a tent, full of food, and off my feet. We achieved two of those things earlier in the afternoon by stopping in Ithaca and grabbing a bite of food at the ever-delicious and well named “Gorgers,” which makes huge hot sub sandwiches with in all the styles of your grandest dreams.

Normally, I stick hard to my plain butter pasta pre-big-race, but it was getting late and I was ready to stick with what was accessible than spend more time tracking down pasta and trying to special order it like an asshole. This may have been my one big mistake or at least contributed to my main source of discomfort the next day.

We left Ithaca and wound our way up towards the National Forest, where we parked along side the road. Here, you can see part of the baby loop, and I remarked that I would probably really, really, really hate that baby loop after 49.5 miles. Truer words were never spoken.

We wandered into the camp and registration area with our things (we loaded almost everything into one of those old-lady shopping carts/ big city laundry carts and it was a super smart decision). At the registration, we signed the Mister up as a pacer for the final 16 mile loop and I bought a Finger Lakes 50s hat (that is either brown or maroon, I really can’t tell) for a bargin price of $5.00!! I’m normally pretty superstitious about buying finisher items before actually finishing a race and I will never, ever, wear a shirt for a race during that very race- gasp, the horror. But I didn’t want to miss out on a sweet hat and I was so excited about this race I broke my rule, and luckily, not my leg.

We set up our tent which, unfortunately, was apparently in a spot that was really bad for runoff and rain was headed in our direction. Fortunately, a kind local gentleman who I think was assisting with race logistics and obviously knew the area far better than we did, pointed out our error. We dragged our tent goofily to higher ground and I called it a night as a huge downpour broke open. Laying in the tent we listened as the rain pounded the tent and I watched the silhouette of a tiny gecko climbing around our tent wall with his bulbous toes holding him there like magic.

Morning came and oh, good god, this is happening! This start included both 50 Milers and 50K-ers (the Finger Lakes 50s, eh- eh?). I knew from looking at the participants ahead of time that they were pretty equally registered with about 80 people starting out for each race.

The first lap started out nice and easy, as usual, it always takes me a good 3-4 miles to even begin to feel settled into a nice, easy, loose run. I ran along Al, who from miles 6-15 or so, I came to think of as my “Trail Pal Al.” He was a really nice gentleman from Rochester, if I remember correctly, and he was running hist first 50 Miler too. It was great to stick with him for such a slice of the loop and I would have tried to keep my trail pal for longer, but I slowed a bit due to the start of what would be on and off stomach issues. Ugh.

At the end of loop one, I was 16 miles in and feeling great. I got to see my Mom, my father, and my aunt who had driven the hour down from my hometown to cheer me on. It was a huge boost to see them and know that I got to have them near for such an incredible day. I hit the trail again and began cutting my way into the second loop.

Loop two went well enough- it amazed me during the 60K last fall, and it amazed me again how the marathon mark slips by so uneventfully that I barely notice. 26.2 can be excruciating and is in its own right, a formidable distance. Yet in the midst of even a slightly longer race it is reduced to little more than an “oh, whatever. It cracks me up.

And then, early on this second loop, it happened. The stomach problems. For all the runners, I don’t need to say more because I think everyone understands. I had to stop two or three times because my stomach was so uncomfortable/ I thought there was going to be a real disaster, haha, luckily, there was not.

The real downside to my stomach issues, other than the loss of time, was I became increasingly less able to eat. Which really stunk because it was pretty hot and mentally, the idea that I was in the middle of 50 miles and not going to be able to keep the fuel levels up, was really discouraging.

I came into the finish of loop 2 feeling relatively fresh on my legs, but my stomach was really messed up. I told my family the current status, letting them know I thought this could be something that would slow me substantially on the final loop.

On the upside, my Mister was going to be joining me for my last loop!

The 16 Mile Loop! times 3 + the Baby Loop = the 50 Miler

On the downside, it was a pretty ugly final loop. The first mile after the home aid station was a complete mind-fuck (sorry about the language, but there is really no other word for it). You spend 15.9 miles thinking about getting somewhere and its pretty motivating. And then after two rounds of that, you depart again and it is like being set adrift at sea with not a hint of land insight. So there was that, and then there was the nausea. And that first mile or two with the Mister was pretty slow.

But I was really eager to show him The Morgue Aid station. We meet another runner there, who looked at us and said “Think we can make it?” I laughed, because I thought he was like 100% joking, and said of course, we were going to make it.

Little did I know.

About 3 miles from The Morgue, IT HAPPENED, mind-fuck number 2. You didn’t know there would be a second one? Well, neither did I.

A guy comes running up behind us, and I step aside, “You should go, we’re pretty slow right now.”

“You don’t want me to do that- then you’ll be on no course” he said, or something to that effect. “I’m just picking up the flags. Take your time, don’t let me rush you.”

And then the entire forest swirled around me- whaaaaaaaat!

Ok, you’re last. That part I could totally deal with. I knew time wise that I was looking pretty good for the cut offs and was well within the normal time range of finishers. I was not, some under-trained lollygagger.

However, the idea that my slowness at this point was now going to actually be holding people up- people at aid stations, volunteers spread over 16 miles, literal forest rangers, race directors- completely destroyed me. I’m pretty shy, so the idea that so many people would be thinking about the last person, and where is this slowpoke, and thinking I wasn’t prepared, just wrecked me.

The Race Begins

We fell into a pattern of trying to run as much as I could, while I wondered if maybe I was foolish to attempt this and should just pack it in. But I keep thinking, well, I guess I can make it to one more aid station, and then we’ll see. I couldn’t even begin to imagine returning to the finish line in a car. So we made it to the South Beach Aid station (twice, as the course has it) and then began the reluctant push to The Library. This was the last cut off of the race.

As we started, the course-deflagger/spirit-crusher ran after us and said “I think you guys can make the cut off, but you are going to have to move a little faster. You were doing about X minute miles last stretch, and you need to do X-2.” (I forget what the times were, but we had to go about 2 minutes per mile faster. Ha. Ha.) I was grateful that this gentleman had done some math for me, but on the other hand the idea that I had any control whatever over how fast I was going was hysterical.

A nice, deep, first-50 miler, burn had settled into my legs, and wasn’t going anywhere. I knew this type of pain was coming one way or another, but because of my stomach problems earlier, I felt like I had to deal with the leg pain for more miles than I expected.

We set off for the Library Aid Station, with the idea that we do the best I could, and whatever happened with the time, well there was nothing I could do about that. When we finally emerged from the woods and made our way across the road for The Library, all the volunteers were cheering.

“You made it!” they said. “Literally, by like a minute!” they added. (I was almost sad I had to keep going). “No one can you off the course now!”

I looked at my Mister, “I know we can go on, but I don’t know if we should.” My legs felt like mush on fire. Why should I waste everyone’s time?

The volunteers were so kind. One of them even said to me, “The next bit goes on and then comes back out after a mile by so-and-so, who has his car by the road. So if you want to stop then, you always can.”

One more mile try? Can’t argue with that. And from that point on, my motto was, “Let’s try.”

Can you run a few feet? Let’s try.

Can you make it one mile? Let’s try.

Can you make it to the next aid station? Let’s try.

And that was how we got to The Outback Aid Station. (Did I mention we met up again, momentarily with the runner from The Morgue, the Do-You-Think-We’ll-Make-It Guy? It felt good to no longer feel like literally the last person on the course).

The volunteers made me feel even better.

“Thank you SO MUCH for being here. I’m sorry I’m so slow.” I said.

They laughed, “Are you kidding? We’ve been out here way later before. You’re doing fine!” And then they tried to get us to eat the rest of the Aid Station food- at some point someone tried to get me to take the remains of a huge package of Twizzlers!

We left, spirits more buoyed than when we arrived, and set out for the final miles.

I should mention, the Baby Loop. As we staggered toward the finish, I thought about the Baby Loop with the fiery hatred of 1,000 suns: F*@k that Baby Loop, I thought, when I get to the finish area I am done. (You have to go *through* the finish, and back out for the 1/2 mile Baby Loop). They can’t make me do it. I entertained myself often those last miles with the absolutely insane notion that I was going to DNF 49.5 miles into a 50 mile race.

But somehow we made it to the finish line and I set off to finish on my own. As I was moving through the final wooded area, I heard it- Eye of the Tiger was playing at the finish area, which was unfortunate because I really wanted to walk. However, I knew that my family must have requested it, because Eye of the Tiger and I go way back to the Musselman Triathlon and when I thought I might drown in Seneca Lake and my uncle yelled “Eye of the Tiger Sam!” And the only way I was going to get to the finish line in time was if I started running rightnow.

So I ran. And as I ran into the clearing, about to finish my first 50 mile race, I saw that almost every person in the finish area had formed a tunnel, their hands raised up like a bridge, and I had to run under their hands and through the human tunnel to the finish.

I wish I could describe it. I get teary eyed now thinking about how overcome with emotion I was in that moment and I smushed down all my tears so I wouldn’t cry, even happy cry, in front of a bunch of strangers.

That, was my first 50 miler.

And my last. At least, that was what I told myself on the drive home that evening. Well, I don’t think I’ll every need to do that again, I thought with a good amount of confidence. How long does it take to forget the feeling of ragged mush muscles set on fire? Mmm, about 24 hours.

That, was my first 50 miler.

And my last.

Epilogue

Things learned:

-Last doesn’t feel that bad. I knew my training was good and I was well within the time frame of finishers over the years. Other than that, eh, whatever. Last- someone has to be.

-Learn to eat real food for ultras. I ate gels and I ate real food. I wouldn’t describe myself as gel-dependent. I ate maybe 5 before my stomach bonked, but I blame the gels 60% (Gorgers, I’m looking at you for that other 40%). I hate peanut butter sandwiches, but I think I need to learn to love this ultra staple.

-Pacer doesn’t necessarily mean pacer. Spirit guide, I believe is much more accurate. I always kind of knew this (trying to “pace” runner brother often turned into “try to be upbeat, not annoyingly so, and don’t feel bad he is super grumpy”), but now I understand it.

-Anyone can quit. I wanted to quit. But, no one signs up for 50 miles so they can learn what it feels like to quit.

I signed up to push at the expanse of what I thought I was physically capable of. 26.2 miles is a number I had come to know. It had structure and tangible edges- a beginning, a middle, and an end. 50 miles? I stood at a race start three years ago and told myself that I would never be one of those people. That there were some special people out there who could accomplish something as unfathomable as that and that I was wise enough to know I would never be one of them. Three years ago was before my first half marathon. Three years ago, was before my first marathon, before I knew the size, and shape, and scent of a marathon. Three years ago was before I realized that the best leaps of faith, test your faith in yourself.

Not letting my embarrassment or insecurity get the best of me has been something I felt I never quite got the hang of, even after all these years of sobriety. Finishing this race, even with the loop of pain and misery and doubt in all its ugly rawness (sorry you had to witness that mister!) I realized that not every journey, whether on the trails or off, is picture perfect or goes according to plan, but that doesn’t render it worthless.

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/07/30/finger-lakes-50s-ultra-race-recap/feed/0901Joe Kleinerman 10Khttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/01/11/joe-kleinerman-10k/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/01/11/joe-kleinerman-10k/#respondMon, 11 Jan 2016 22:13:19 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=868The first race of 2016 is in the books! I hadn’t really planned on running the predicably frigid 10K, but a group of co-workers had already signed up and I was…

I hadn’t really planned on running the predicably frigid 10K, but a group of co-workers had already signed up and I was peer-pressured into it. OK, 50% peer pressure, 50% I had sitting on the sidelines and watching every one else run (run-vy?)!

I woke up in the middle of the night the evening before the race, and had a quick case of the “what-the-f*$#-am-I-doings”- the run was sandwiched between two long work shifts, I wasn’t getting much sleep in between them, and it was cold. Wah. However, I have watched my runner brother slog through the last 70 miles of an ultra rather than DNF even when he should, so there is no way I will ever DNS a race because I was chilly.

I had decided ahead of time that I would run to and from the race for an added 3 miles, round-trip. This part went according to plan. What did not go according to plan was me wearing a teeshirt and running zip up for the 40 degree weather. Oh no, instead I made the rookie mistake of deciding to wear a long sleeve underarmor, and the zip up. Of course, not 2 miles in I was sweating my face off and trapped in a long sleeve underarmor.

Note on winter running: Listen to your brain, not your goosebumps.

All in all, the run went great! I was very happy with my time (especially since I was only a week back into running, and hadn’t run 8 miles since mid-November) and I am pretty sure I ran a negative split (which was a pleasant surprise).

]]>http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2016/01/11/joe-kleinerman-10k/feed/0868Part 2: Going 60Khttp://www.sevenmileitch.com/2015/12/31/going-60k-part-2/
http://www.sevenmileitch.com/2015/12/31/going-60k-part-2/#respondThu, 31 Dec 2015 05:36:51 +0000http://www.sevenmileitch.com/?p=862Begin at the beginning (Part 1) and without further adieu, part 2: All week, I had been trying to track down just the right gels that I had been training with all…

All week, I had been trying to track down just the right gels that I had been training with all summer. I thought I had enough to last me through all of the fall races, but I had thought wrong. I went to two different Jack Rabbit Sports in the process of tracking them down and in the end had to settle for some new flavors.

I may not have found the Strawberry Banana Power Gels I was looking for, but I did walk away from the Upper West Side Jack Rabbit with some last minute words of wisdom that echoed in my head all weekend.

I knew patience would be the name of the game, but it was good to hear it one last time just in case I got any… ideas.

Since my Mister insisted on coming (I felt bad 7 hours in the cold park sounded like a less than ideal spectator situation), I suggested he meet me two hours in. This helped:

-him have less time waiting around
-helped break up the race into smaller mental breaks for me
-helped me relax and not go out to fast because someone was waiting for me

I saw some runners used rubber bands to keep track of their laps (start with 9 on one wrist, and move 1 at a time after each loop) and decided that would be the best way to keep track. I was so glad I did! By mile 28, I defiantly had a touch of the fuzzy running mind and could only count my remaining loops in terms of “Uhh, 37ish minus this many hair elastics” *holds up wrist.* It was a very efficient method of keeping track of 9 laps.

Miles 1-13- Already forgot the first loop was the longest, very disappointed when I got to 72nd and couldn’t take the transverse. Nice and easy, no music, looked forward to seeing my mister.

Miles 13-25- Switch into music mode. I dive right into the soundtrack of “Hamilton.” Two hours and forty five minutes of catchy tunes that plays like a big long audio-book? Yes, please! By the time I came through mile 25, I was barely into Ac II. I paused it and saved it for later.

Miles 25- 29 – My Mister joined me for a 4 mile lap, while carrying a heavy running pack full of too much stuff I packed!

Miles 29- 33- On my own again! More Hamilton!

Miles 33-34– The Mister joins me again on my last lap, and then he cuts through near the reservoir to meet me near the finish. All this time I am attempting to do math (with little luck). I am pretty sure a sub-7 is still possible, but I’m not exactly sure. And if it is possible, I’m not sure I can pull it off at this point.

Miles 34-37.5– I run almost the entire rest of the way, with maybe a miniature walking break strategically timed with one of the tougher hills. I’m pretty tired at this point. No more gels, no more water, any thing else and I risk upsetting my stomach for no reason and missing a chance for the sub-7.

I expect to see the Mister on the final reservoir hill, but he is just past the Met! It was perfect timing and just as I was thinking about kicking down a gear (soo tired), I find a last burst as he begins to run with me one last time up thatdamnhill.

And just like that- I was done.

6:59:56!

196 out of 351 finishers45 out of 103 women5 out of 18 women AG

A very, very special thanks to this handsome man who supports my endless running/ talking-about-running every step of the way.